Erik the Loser
by MagicSwede1965
Summary: Christian meets another ancestor, this one doomed. Follows 'Waltz of Love'.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:**_This is the first story in a series of four, which I think I'll find pretty exciting to write about. I hope you'll find it as interesting to read! Thanks as usual to jtbwriter, Harry2, Bishop T and Kyryn, and especially to PDXWiz, who came up with the idea that covers the first three of the four tales in this line. Enjoy, all! _

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§ § § -- August 6, 2004

"Miss Leslie? Dr. Corbett's ready for you and the triplets," said the receptionist with a smile that seemed sympathetic. She knew as well as Christian and Leslie did why they were here. It wasn't just a well-baby checkup: the triplets were two months old now, and they were due for their first immunizations. Leslie thought it appropriate that, though this Friday morning had dawned clear and sunny, it had clouded up on their way to the hospital, and now it was plainly threatening to rain.

"Come on, my Rose, you know this is necessary," Christian said with a sympathetic smile of his own, getting to his feet and picking up two of the infant carriers. "No parent in his or her right mind would want a child coming down with a disease that can be easily prevented, and I know you're no different."

"I'm not," Leslie said, lifting the carrier containing Susanna, "but I wish there were a nicer way of administering the immunizations than sticking needles in these poor babies' behinds. I wish they'd hurry up and develop that atomizer thing that Dr. McCoy used to use in _Star Trek_. If they could invent cell phones that look like communicators, surely they could invent that—something a lot more useful to humankind, if you ask me."

Christian laughed. "Believe me, my Rose, I agree fully with you on that one. But since they haven't, we may as well get this over with. The babies will be cranky and unhappy for a while, but soon they'll be back to their usual happy selves."

Leslie simply sighed and followed him and the receptionist back to an exam room. In a few minutes Dr. Corbett joined them, smiling brightly in greeting. "Well, so today's the big bad day, huh?" she said.

"I think Leslie will be affected more than the triplets will," Christian remarked with a chuckle. "I tried to tell her on our way here that they've already had one shot, which was given while she was still unconscious after she'd given birth, but she brushed me off."

"I didn't have to see them being stuck," Leslie protested. "This is different."

"I see," said Dr. Corbett. "Listen, Leslie, the best thing you can do for the triplets is to stay calm. I haven't yet seen a baby who didn't cry after getting shots, but you and Christian can do a lot to keep them from getting hysterical if you can control your nervousness and be there to help soothe them after it's done. And we're using a vaccine called Pediarix that combines three of the essential immunizations into one shot, so that we'll need to give only three shots per baby today instead of five." She smiled at the look Christian and Leslie traded. "They've been fed, right?"

"Just like you said," Leslie told her, "we tried to time their last feeding so it'd end not too long before we were due up here. They're all set there."

"Good. That'll help minimize their discomfort, and it'll also help if one of you holds each triplet while they're getting immunized. It's really not as bad as you think it is, Leslie. Babies don't feel more pain than adults do—they just vocalize it more."

Christian laughed at that, and even Leslie giggled. "Okay, okay," she said, raising both hands. "I give up. Let's get this over with."

"Who's in the best mood?" Christian asked with a grin, surveying the triplets.

"My question is, who cries the least?" Dr. Corbett asked, chuckling. "My philosophy with multiples has always been, get the easygoing ones done first, so that we're not spending time trying to calm down the irritable ones while the rest are waiting in line."

Christian nodded. "That makes sense," he said. "Well, I think in that case we can start with Susanna. We've noticed that she rarely fusses, even when she's really hungry."

"Good, then she'll be first," Dr. Corbett said, and Leslie set the baby carrier on the floor, lifting Susanna out of it. The baby blinked up at her as she cradled her, and Leslie smiled, hoping Susanna wouldn't pick up on her lingering trepidation. A couple of days after Christian had met Jan-Martin Asplundh, Susanna had finally produced her first smile. Now Leslie grinned at her daughter, and sure enough, Susanna smiled widely at her. Dr. Corbett caught it and grinned too. "Hey, how about that!"

"They all smile now," said Christian, who had been watching Leslie.

"Wonderful," said Dr. Corbett. "If you'll hand her to me, Leslie, I'll give her a quick once-over and make sure she's in good shape for getting vaccinated. Has either of you noticed anything different about her or the other two?"

Christian and Leslie watched the doctor check over each triplet, answering the usual questions; Leslie watched closely throughout, while Christian read over the information statement he and Leslie had been given when they arrived, which explained the vaccines in more detail. Dr. Corbett talked to Susanna as well, and beamed every time Susanna smiled at her, eventually making the baby chortle aloud and causing Leslie to sit up straight. Christian's head came up sharply from what he was reading. "Did she laugh?" he exclaimed.

"Yes, she did!" Leslie said delightedly, reaching over and squeezing his hand.

Christian gave her and Dr. Corbett a rueful smile. "She won't be laughing for long, I'm afraid," he said half-jokingly, and they both grinned, Leslie with a sudden return of nerves. "Oh, come on, my Rose, she'll be fine—all three of them will."

"I know, but it doesn't make it easy," Leslie said, sighing.

Dr. Corbett chuckled. "Three little pinpricks and it'll all be over," she said, talking to Susanna as much as to Leslie. "Seems to me you're less nervous, Christian, so why don't you hold Susanna. She'll sense Leslie's worry."

"Well enough," Christian agreed, and gave Leslie the vaccine information sheet while Dr. Corbett settled Susanna into his lap. Christian talked to his daughter in _jordiska_, getting several little giggles from her. Leslie watched, her composure beginning to slip, no matter how hard she tried to rein in her emotions. _She's so happy right now,_ Leslie thought, knowing she was being silly but unable to stop herself. _Wait till she gets those shots…_

Christian looked up and saw her chin start to tremble. "Oh, Leslie," he said, smiling. "Come on, stop it now. They're going to be fine. If you bawl at a shot, imagine what will happen when they begin crawling and walking, and start collecting bruises and cuts. And fate save us the day Tobias comes home with a broken arm."

"Don't even mention it, Christian Enstad," Leslie grumbled, but his scoffing tone gave her a chance to get her near-tears back under control. "Please, Dr. Corbett, can we get this over with? The anticipation's driving me insane."

Dr. Corbett laughed. "I've seen mothers in far worse shape than you, believe me," she assured her. "Keep distracting her, Christian. I'll get 'em in there and done before she has enough time to wonder who's pinching her." Leslie's skepticism showed, but Christian just winked at her and went back to amusing Susanna in_jordiska_. Dr. Corbett came in with the first needle, shifted Susanna's diaper and inserted it. Leslie turned away, squeezing her eyes shut; Christian carried on as if nothing was happening. Susanna, though, let out a wail, and Leslie winced and let her head fall forward so that her hair hid her face.

When Dr. Corbett went to prepare the second shot, Christian gently ran his hand over Susanna's back, looking at his wife and shaking his head in amusement. "Leslie Susan Enstad, honestly, I'd swear it was you getting the shots. You're actually worse than Susanna is. Look, she's already calming down." Leslie stared at him, then looked at her daughter, who was still whimpering but settling down, just as Christian had said.

"She's really okay," Leslie said in astonishment.

"Of course she is," Christian said, nodding. "Now, maybe you can stop being such a coward and watch the next one. You'll have no trouble at all by the time Susanna gets the last shot and we're ready to go with the next triplet."

"You're a hopeless optimist," Leslie said, but she grinned anyway. When Dr. Corbett gave Susanna the second injection, she resolutely looked on, alternately watching Susanna's reaction and Christian's constant conversation in his own tongue. Again Susanna cried, perhaps a little more indignant than the first time, but Christian again stroked her back and she began to settle down.

"Sounds to me like you're going to raise the triplets bilingual," Dr. Corbett remarked, preparing the last syringe. Christian looked up and smiled.

"That's the plan," he said. "Actually, I've developed the habit of soothing the babies in my own language. I got my experience from babysitting my nieces and nephews during my teens and into my twenties a bit, and I was always accustomed to using _jordiska_ to calm them down. It seems strange to me to do it in English even now, so I simply went with the same routine I used to use."

"That's a good philosophy—go with what works for you," Dr. Corbett agreed with a nod. "And it can only help the kids to know two languages, too. Whatever you're doing, it's really having a great effect on Susanna there. Okay, shot number three. Last one, kiddo."

Susanna survived the final immunization as easily as the first two, and Christian cuddled her for a minute or two, dropping a few kisses on the top of her head and crooning at her a bit. When she settled down and even yawned, Christian grinned and laid her back in the infant carrier, stroking her cheek with the back of a finger for a moment before lifting Tobias from his carrier. "Okay, young man, let's see how you take getting stuck, hmm?"

Tobias was less amenable than his sister had been, wailing with great indignation after each injection. It took Christian a few minutes to get his son to at least hold the crying down to something that wouldn't burst everyone's eardrums, but he was good-natured throughout, rubbing Tobias' back in circles and talking soothingly to him in _jordiska_. Leslie bit her lip at the sight of Tobias' tears, but otherwise managed to sit through it without complaint. Almost ten minutes had passed before Tobias settled down; Susanna and Karina were both awake, watching, but it didn't seem to Leslie that either of them associated Tobias' howling with Susanna's earlier crying, and it didn't set them off in their own turns.

Christian finally got Tobias calm enough to put him back in the infant carrier and give him the same reassuring finger stroke on the cheek that he had Susanna; then he turned to Leslie and smiled. "Well, my Rose? I think you should hold Karina for her shots. It's only fair that you do it—you should get used to it anyway."

She looked down at Karina in the infant carrier, then back at Christian, and groaned, "Look at that trusting expression on her face! If I hold her and then she gets all stuck, she'll never want to come near me again!"

Dr. Corbett turned away to hide her grin; Christian rolled his eyes and laughed outright. "Leslie, for fate's sake, you're overreacting so much I'm starting to wonder if it's really you sitting there! Just pick her up, hold her and talk to her, and both of you will be fine!"

"First-time mothers," Dr. Corbett said, chuckling. "I've seen it all, Leslie. Karina will be fine, she'll certainly go on trusting you. It's me she's going to hate the sight of. I'm the one sticking her with needles; you're the one comforting her and telling her the big bad doctor doesn't get to touch her anymore…at least not for another month."

Leslie eyed her, then thought back over what she had said, replayed Christian's deft touch with Tobias and Susanna, and finally grinned in embarrassment. "I'm such a dope," she muttered. "Okay, okay. Before I dig myself in any deeper with my carrying on, let's do this and get it over with already." Snickering, Christian lifted Karina out of the infant carrier and handed her over to Leslie. Just as she accepted the baby, Karina smiled in response to Christian's amusement, and Leslie had to grin back at her. "Hi, sweetie, come and sit with Mommy," she said, settling Karina into her lap so that she could look up at Leslie but also see Christian sitting nearby.

Karina didn't even see Dr. Corbett coming with the needle, but she turned to stare at the pediatrician when she moved the baby's diaper, and then began to cry loudly when the needle went in. Leslie winced again, but gamely stuck it out. "Aw, that's only a little pinch, sweetie," she crooned, kissing Karina's head. "You yelled a lot louder when Tobias hit you by accident that time, remember? You're okay, Mommy's got you. Only two to go…that's my baby girl." Karina's crying wound down a little; Dr. Corbett waited till Leslie had engaged her daughter in a brief tickling session before administering the next shot. Again Karina began to cry, and Leslie employed Christian's method of rubbing her back to help calm her down. "Good girl…just one more! This'll keep you from getting all sick, sweetie. That's right…no chicken pox or mumps, and no polio or diphtheria…none of that nasty stuff." Karina stared up at her, looking comically uncertain, with a tear suspended just under one eye. Beside Leslie, Christian chuckled.

"You're doing great," he said encouragingly. "She'll be just fine."

Leslie spared him a quick smile of gratitude, gently brushed away the tear and gave Karina a gentle squeeze. "Okay, here we go, just one more. That's right, there's Daddy right there, watching you. See him smiling at you? Can you smile for Daddy? Oh, good girl! Daddy really likes it when you smile for him!" She heard another chuckle from Christian, and Karina's smile got wider; she kicked her feet, and just at that moment Dr. Corbett came in and gave her the last shot, immediately sending Karina back into tears. "Oooh, poor baby," Leslie crooned, rubbing Karina's back again. "That's the last one…it's all over now." The doctor withdrew and Leslie cuddled Karina close, stroking her back and giving Christian a slightly shaky smile. "I guess I did it."

"You sure did," said Dr. Corbett. "You came through with flying colors."

"Exactly so," Christian agreed warmly. "See, it wasn't so bad. Now they'll be just fine till their next round of shots, and you'll know what to do."

Leslie blew out her breath and grinned again. "I guess the anticipation is always worse than the actual event. I just…well, it's hard for a mother to see her child in pain, and I had to deal with it three times. I wish I could have had more experience with babies, but I just never got the chance really."

"There's nothing wrong with that," Dr. Corbett assured her. "You and Christian are doing very well with these three. They're healthy as heck, gaining weight nicely, and they're lively and animated—incredible achievements for preemies. I think it helped that you were able to keep them _in utero_ longer than most triplets go. They had more time to develop, and they had a better chance of progressing at a rate close to that of a full-term singleton."

The Enstad family headed for home not too long thereafter, with the triplets still a little fussy but not screaming full-on, and Christian and Leslie took the time to play with them a little and talk to them before putting them in to sleep awhile. They were in the midst of lunch when the phone rang, and Leslie got up to get it.

"Hi, Father," she said in surprise. "Something wrong?"

"No, not at all. As a matter of fact, perhaps you and Christian would like to come to the main house early in the morning, and bring the babies," Roarke said. "One of this weekend's guests has a fantasy that will interest Christian in particular, and you might find a few chances to assume your usual role as my assistant while you're with us."

"How involved is he going to be?" Leslie wondered.

Roarke chuckled. "That may well depend on Christian himself. You'll find out more when you come in tomorrow. You can take breaks from caring for the babies, except for feeding them of course, since Mariki and her staff are very eager to babysit. It will also help you to ease back into your job, so that you can assume most of your usual tasks by the time you officially return to work at the end of the month."

"When you put it like that, it's just too tempting to refuse," Leslie said and grinned at his quiet laugh. "Okay, then, we'll see you tomorrow morning. Is nine okay?"

Having made their plans, she hung up and told Christian what was afoot. Christian considered it, looking intrigued. "A fantasy that will interest me? Maybe someone wants to invent and market the next legendary computer game," he kidded.

Leslie laughed and sat down again. "Who knows," she said. "Whatever it is, I hope it's not another trip back to the Viking era. I don't think we need to know what King Ormssvärd died of, or witness the founding of the national capital, or whatever."

Christian chuckled and shrugged. "I already mentioned I'd had enough of the Viking age," he said. "However, that doesn't mean I'm averse to seeing other bits of my country's history. It should be very intriguing to find out just what's awaiting us tomorrow."


	2. Chapter 2

§ § § -- August 7, 2004

Leslie had called the Polidari house and asked Janine to come in early the next day so she could get the shopping done before the Enstads left for the main house. Now she was expected at any time, and Christian, taking a deep breath, glanced at Leslie. "Do you really think I need to say something today? She's been unusually reserved for a girl with a crush, ever since the last time she brought us food."

"Maybe she expected a present from you for her birthday, and she's mad that she didn't get it," Leslie offered whimsically. Christian chuckled.

"Whatever it is, it's been a relief," he said. "In fact, on Tuesday she brought up her planned return to Boston and said she was getting ready to visit the travel agent in town, and I told her that she was likely to find the airfares prohibitive to her departure schedule. You should have seen the look I got from her—it was as if I had betrayed her."

Leslie shrugged. "She has to get her head out of the clouds," she said simply. "I looked online at fares between Honolulu and Boston, just for the heck of it. She'll need at least another three hundred dollars if she wants to get where she's planning to go, and I don't see that she'll be getting that."

"No, I don't suppose so," Christian said. The doorbell rang and he grinned ruefully. "All right, I suppose this is it. You're sure you don't want to stay?"

Leslie grinned at him. "Tell you what, I can sit in the chair under the passthrough and listen in if you want," she teased. "If you need help you can just call me. Though I never would've thought you'd be intimidated by a high-school girl." Christian gave her a look that made her laugh and rise from the table, ensconcing herself out of sight in the living room. He waited till he knew she had settled down, even though the bell sounded again, before he went ahead and answered the door.

"Hi, Mr. Enstad," Janine said with a bright smile.

"Hello, Janine," Christian replied neutrally, trying to keep his voice as impersonal as he possibly could. "We're in something of a hurry today, so if you can be back in an hour, you can have an extra five dollars."

"Oh, you don't have to bother," said Janine breezily. "The usual pay'll be fine. But thanks—you're a really nice guy to offer." She gave him a smile that was eerily reminiscent of the slow smile Leslie often used when she wanted to make love, and Christian had to suppress a shiver.

"Thank you," he murmured and turned away from her. "Here's the list, and—"

"You mean you don't even want to know why I don't need the extra money?" Janine interrupted him in surprise.

Christian paused and looked at her oddly. "It didn't occur to me to wonder, but very well. You were certainly determined to return to Massachusetts, and I'm surprised you'd turn down any extra money."

Janine smiled again. "I don't need it," she said. "I got checks yesterday—one from my dad and one from my grandparents. They each sent me two hundred dollars. I'm almost ready to go home now!"

Christian blinked at her in astonishment. "Checks?" he said blankly.

"For my birthday. They came a little late, but they finally got here." She snickered and said as if in confidence, "I went right off and put both of them in my savings account. My mom acted so proud of me. Man, if she only knew!" She giggled a little deliriously and then, to Christian's complete shock, hugged him. He was so stunned by this that he couldn't react right away, and Janine seemed to take it as acceptance and looked up at him with sparkling eyes. "It's all thanks to you, you know. You're helping me go home, and I think you're just wonderful for doing that. Like I said, I'm gonna really miss you."

Christian tried to step back from her, still flustered. "We…we'll miss you as well, Janine. You've done a wonderful job this summer…"

But Janine wouldn't let him go, to his consternation. "I thought, since I'm gonna be leaving soon anyway…well, I thought I'd go ahead and tell you. See…I'm kinda crazy about you, you know? You're such a terrific guy—really cool and really nice, and not fake and phony like a lot of famous people." She dropped her voice and smiled again, that same scary smile that sent a flood of panic through Christian. "I'm always gonna think of you as the first guy I ever fell in love with." And before he'd recovered from his first shock wave, she raised herself on tiptoe and pressed her lips against his in a brazen move that immobilized him completely. It was so sudden and unexpected that it took him several seconds to get his wits together enough to turn his head aside, grab her arms and firmly set her back from him, taking two or three steps back himself.

"Now wait," he said, shaking his head. "That's too much."

Janine blinked at him. "Huh? I thought maybe you…"

At wits' end, he shook his head and just let the words fall out of him. "Janine, I'm sorry, but you can't honestly think I'd return your feelings. For fate's sake, I'm nearly thirty years older than you are—more than old enough to be your father. And more than that, I'm already married, in case you've forgotten. I've been married to Leslie for several years—very, very happy years. I love her deeply, and there's no other—never will be, never can be. If you think I'm of the age to experience what they call a mid-life crisis, and leave my wife and children to run away with a much younger woman, you should know that I've already been married to a much younger woman. And believe me, I didn't enjoy it at all. I was in love with Leslie even then and all I wanted was to get out of that marriage and be with her. We are both very happy together, and I'm sorry, Janine, but there's just no chance for you. You'll be far better off looking for romance with boys closer to your age. I didn't want to hurt your feelings or embarrass you, but I'm afraid you've pushed things too far." He shook his head and raked one hand through his hair. "Just please, go ahead and do the shopping." With that, he brushed past her and left the room, just short of running.

Leslie watched him rush by, but didn't dare go after him till she heard the sound of Janine closing the door behind her. Then she got up and followed him up to their bedroom, where she found him in front of the door to the deck, staring out. "Christian, my love, are you all right? That sounded like it must've been pretty nerve-wracking."

He turned to her and pulled her into a hard hug. "It was," he muttered.

"What happened?" Leslie asked gently.

"You heard her talking, I'm sure," Christian said, and she nodded. "She gave me a hug, which was on the edge of improper etiquette anyhow…but then she kissed me, and that was just too much."

Leslie's mouth dropped open. "She kissed you!"

"Not as you and I do," Christian said hastily, "just her mouth on mine, but it was still far too much. I had never expected her to be that bold, and it stripped away any pretense of calm I had left. I wanted no more than to get out of her sight, or get her out of mine, whichever happened first." He closed his eyes and growled softly in the back of his throat. "I should have discouraged her long before this. Never did I think she'd do such a thing."

"She's got guts, I'll say that for her," Leslie remarked wryly. "Wow. Oh, Christian, my love, I'm not blaming you, not at all. Sometimes you have to brand it into them to make them understand. If that message doesn't get through to her, nothing will."

Christian gave her a look of alarm at that. "Then it had damned well _better_ get through to her, because I don't think I can take another scene like that!"

Leslie grinned and pulled his head down to kiss him, making certain that hers was wholly different from the prolonged peck he'd said Janine had tried to give him. Christian responded avidly, and the kiss grew into something leisurely and sensual, calming both of them over several minutes. When they at last broke apart, Leslie smiled and murmured, "Does that make you feel better?"

"Infinitely," Christian assured her with a smile. "However, if you don't mind, my Rose, I'd like you to deal with that girl when she gets back here with the groceries. I have no way of knowing what reaction she had, and I don't want to take the chance that she didn't get the message I tried to send."

Leslie giggled. "Okay, my love, I can do that."

When Christian and Leslie brought in the triplets in their infant carriers about ninety minutes later, along with one of Roarke's employees who trailed them with the stroller, they found Roarke alone in the study. "Ah, good, you're here!" he said warmly, rising from the desk. "My guest should arrive in a few more minutes. How are the triplets doing?"

"They're fine," Leslie said. "They got their first shots yesterday, and I was such a nervous wreck I pretty much made an idiot out of myself, but we all survived it. You might have some time to spend with them before Mariki and her staff get hold of them and start spoiling them beyond redemption."

Roarke chuckled. "They've been given a strict warning to follow yours and Christian's instructions regarding the babies' care," he said. "I've mentioned that feeding is entirely your department, but other than that they should simply heed your wishes."

"That's fine," said Christian. "They'll likely sleep fine in these carriers; they've lately started napping in them during the afternoons, which gives Leslie and me a little more freedom to get things done around the house. We need only take the carriers along from one room to another if we must. And I expect Leslie will be in and out of the kitchen frequently to check on them in any case."

Roarke nodded, sent the native man to the kitchen to get Mariki, and gestured at the chairs in front of the desk. "Please sit down, both of you," he said. "Once the triplets are in good hands and my guest has arrived, we can get down to business."

Mariki came back a moment later and beamed at sight of the Enstad family. "So we finally get to sit for these precious little babies!" she exclaimed happily. "I was beginning to think you didn't trust me, Miss Leslie."

"Only beginning?" Leslie asked in feigned surprise, getting a dark look from Mariki and laughs from Roarke and Christian. She relented and grinned. "They like attention, but they hate to be disturbed during their naps, so if they fall asleep, let them. You can just put them back in the carriers then. Otherwise, play with them to your hearts' content, all of you. If they start to cry and they don't need changing, come get us—they'll be hungry."

"Got it, Miss Leslie," said Mariki. "Well, then, let's give these little ones the grand tour. Don't worry, they'll be just fine." She hefted Susanna's and Karina's carriers and toted them off, with the young native man behind her bearing Tobias. Christian and Leslie stared after them, both startled by a sudden case of separation anxiety.

Roarke read their expressions and laughed. "They're never far away whenever you feel the need to look in on them," he assured them. "They'll have plenty of attention. One of Mariki's staff is facing sending her only child to kindergarten in a few more weeks, and apparently misses his babyhood; so I expect she in particular will lavish the triplets with more attention than they probably get even from the two of you." He smiled, then added, "And it might be wise to keep in mind that whichever triplet is bottle-fed at a given time, someone in the kitchen is likely to be providing said bottle."

"I knew it," Leslie exclaimed. "Another trip back in time, right? What's the story?"

"Patience, my child," Roarke said, amused. "I mean only that your babysitters will be eager to do more than simply play with the infants." He noticed the look on Christian's face. "You seem preoccupied, Christian. Is something troubling you?"

Christian looked up and sighed. "Ah, well, the situation with Janine finally came to a head." He described what had happened that morning while Roarke listened, and when he finished, Roarke nodded slowly.

"I see," he said. "And what happened when she returned, Leslie?"

"She stayed barely long enough to put the bags in the house," Leslie said. "She almost forgot to take the money, for that matter. Didn't say a word." She glanced at Christian, then remarked to Roarke, "It's going to be very interesting to see what kind of attitude she has when she comes back again on Tuesday."

"I daresay I won't be the one answering the door," Christian said a little stridently.

Leslie grinned and said, "Well, I can't blame you. She seemed subdued, but you never know what goes on in a teenage girl's head. I just hope that does it. It was really weird, Father, sitting there out of sight but hearing every word she said. She discombobulated poor Christian so badly, it's amazing he didn't react more strongly than he did. I wanted to go in there and remind her I still existed."

"It seems Christian himself did that perfectly adequately," Roarke said humorously. "Don't worry about it, Christian. You've made your position as clear as you can make it, and it's up to Janine to decide how to comport herself. My suggestion is that you simply forget about it now, and think about other things—such as this." With impeccable timing the inner-foyer door had opened, and now a wiry redheaded man walked in, looking for all the world like an overgrown leprechaun, a big grin on his freckled face. He wasn't homely, but he looked quite boyish.

"Hi there, Mr. Roarke!" he said cheerfully. "Can't wait to start my fantasy!"

"Indeed," said Roarke, amused. "Why don't you come in and meet my daughter Leslie and son-in-law Christian. This is Mr. Finn Greenstone of Worcester, Massachusetts."

Christian arose and shook hands with Finn Greenstone, resuming his seat while Greenstone then shook with Leslie. "Hello, Mr. Greenstone," he said.

"Just Finn," the guest said cheerfully. "Hi there, Your Highness and Mrs. Enstad. It's a real pleasure to meet you. I tell ya, it's perfect you're here."

"That it is," Roarke agreed, smiling. "If you'll pull the computer chair there over to the desk, we can let Christian and Leslie in on this particular fantasy."

"About time, I say," Leslie observed with a meaningful look at Roarke, whose smile widened. Christian chuckled and agreed with her.

Finn Greenstone took a seat and leaned forward, resting both elbows on the desk. "So how're we gonna do this, Mr. Roarke?"

"By beginning with a little history," Roarke replied. "Christian and Leslie, Mr. Greenstone tells me he is descended from an Irish pirate who undoubtedly would have remained lost to history were it not for one particularly daring deed. Because of that deed, his name was recorded by Mr. Greenstone's family as the ancestor whom they are able to trace back the farthest."

"Oh?" said Leslie curiously. "What'd he do?"

Greenstone grinned. "It's kinda notorious," he said. "It's probably not even his real name, just something his fellow pirates called him—supposedly because greenstone is what his sword hilt was made of." His grin faltered and grew sheepish when he slanted a glance at Christian, and added, "He used that sword to slay your ancestor, King Erik."

Christian raised an amused eyebrow and asked, _"Which_ King Erik? We've had thirteen so far, you know."

Roarke and Leslie laughed, and Greenstone snickered. "The seventh, I think," he said. "One of your ancestors, right?"

The other eyebrow shot up to join the first, and Christian burst out laughing. "Fates have mercy. The seventh? Erik the Loser?"

Leslie sat up straight and let out a startled laugh of her own. "Hey, you never mentioned he was called that!" she exclaimed.

Chortling, Christian turned to her and explained, "He was given that nickname because he lost the first crown. It was one of the very few things about most of my more distant ancestors that I still remember learning in my Royal Comportment classes. Mr. Roarke, if you have more information than I do, please enlighten us."

The prince's amusement was clearly contagious, for Roarke was chuckling himself. "Of course, Christian. King Erik VII of Lilla Jordsö reigned for twelve years, from 1530 to 1542. As it happened, he was a mere ten-year-old boy when he inherited the throne, and it became his solely by virtue of his being the firstborn—for he was somewhat incompetent, as I understand it. At that time the plague had flared up in Lilla Jordsö and run amok through the country, killing almost ten percent of the population, including the boy's father, King Erik VI. As you might say, like father, like son, for the sixth Erik had also inherited the throne at the age of ten, and for the same reason. In any case, the seventh Erik's mother, Queen Gudrun, herself barely survived the plague, and it was well that she did, for she was required to guide the young king for the next eight years until he reached his majority. After that, Erik took over, and things began to go wrong for him almost from that moment."

"Like what?" Leslie asked.

"For one thing, he was very unlucky in love," Roarke said. "During his teen years he fell in love three times, and each time the young lady spurned him. It was said that he grew weary of the rejection, and thus deliberately never married, merely taking a long string of lovers from the castle's serving staff."

"That's right," Christian put in, "it just came back to me. From that point, we're all descended from King Erik VIII, the younger brother of Erik the Loser."

"Two brothers both named Erik?" Leslie asked, laughing.

"The elder was named Erik Hans Anders Kristian," Roarke explained, "and the younger was Magnus Erik Lars Oskar. Apparently Erik was a very popular name for many years in Lilla Jordsö."

"It was that," Christian agreed, grinning. "Which is why Erik was the last name on earth I wanted to give our son. Forgive me, Mr. Roarke, please go on."

Roarke smiled again and continued, "In any case, Erik the Seventh was a jocular ruler, a bit of a rake, and none too thrifty. He was also enamored of pomp and riches, and liked to show off the royal wealth. So…one day in the year 1542, Irish pirates were sighted off the coast, another occurrence in a long string of such events. Young Erik decided it was time to teach someone a lesson, and with this in mind he insisted on going out in a ship himself so that the pirates would know exactly whose territory they were trying to invade. He brought a full retinue of armed soldiers, wrapped himself in sumptuous royal robes, and even donned the crown jewels—which dated from the days of Queen Freyja II in the thirteenth century and had been fashioned at great effort and expense."

"Oh no," Leslie said, realizing what must be coming up.

Roarke laughed. "Yes indeed," he said. "Erik, in indulging his vanity and asserting his superiority, made himself a sitting duck. It was all too obvious to the pirates that they were dealing with the monarch himself—and of course, those crown jewels were too much for them to resist."

Christian nodded and put in, "As Anna-Laura told me a few years ago, one bold pirate leaped from his ship to the king's even as Erik was declaiming at them and telling them to leave his shores at once or suffer the consequences. He probably didn't even finish the sentence before the pirate drew his sword, skewered Erik with it and caught the crown on its way off Erik's head as he fell." He looked at Finn Greenstone. "I presume this was your ancestor, Mr. Greenstone."

"Yep, a guy named Glaschloiche—Irish for 'greenstone'. Like I said, I doubt it was his real name, probably came from his sword hilt. But it was the name the family took and kept ever since. They were proud of the guy. I got no idea why, though, because he didn't come home with the treasure."

"Exactly so," Christian said, grinning. "Your great-et-cetera grandfather tried to leap back from the royal ship onto his own, but by then the two had drifted apart, thanks to the never-quiet North Sea. Greenstone Senior misjudged the distance between the ships and literally fell short of his goal, right into the water, without ever coming back to the surface again. Unfortunately, he took the crown jewels with him. His brother, Erik VIII, had to wear a makeshift crown fashioned from iron at his coronation, and a proper replacement crown wasn't commissioned till late in his reign, just in time for King Lukas I—his son—to make use of it during _his_ coronation."

"I thought you didn't know much about that particular king," Leslie teased him.

Christian admitted, "Well, in fact, after Anna-Laura mentioned Erik's death and loss of that crown, I realized she had said that the current crown dates from Lukas I's reign, and I remembered that there had been an eighth Erik between Erik the Loser and the first Lukas. It made me wonder, and I went online and looked it up. Anna-Laura's historical committee has a fascinating website that tells of assorted high points in _jordisk_ history."

"Or low points, in this case," Leslie said, earning a laugh from Christian. "Well, okay then. So, Mr. Greenstone, exactly what are you looking to do with your fantasy?"

"I just want to go back and meet the guy," said Greenstone. "If it weren't for his killing the king of Lilla Jordsö, he'd have been just another nameless face on a shipful of pirates. Makes me wonder what sort of life he led that made him go out for piracy in the first place, and what came over him that he offed the ruler of another country like that. It just seems like there must be some hidden motivation that elevated him into a footnote of history."

Leslie nodded thoughtfully and looked at Roarke, who smiled. "Very well, then," he said, "we'll put you aboard his ship, Mr. Greenstone. I do have to warn you, however, that everything you see will be real—including weapons and any adverse weather you may encounter at sea. Life was quite a bit more brutal and primitive then than it is now, and you must keep constant watch about you at all times. Your best bet may be to find someone you trust—perhaps your ancestor himself—and cultivate a friendship. Thus you and that other person can watch each other's backs and allow for some rest time." Greenstone nodded eagerly, and Roarke added, "Also, one other thing. No matter what you may wish to change, it will be impossible. History cannot be changed, and it is futile to try. Your ancestor will still slay King Erik, and he will still misjudge the jump and lose the crown. There is nothing you can do to stop that—nothing."

"Got it, Mr. Roarke," said Greenstone. "I oughta tell you that I really didn't have any intentions of trying to change things, just wanted to see what really happened, maybe even get some more personal info out of the guy so we can put it in the family records."

Roarke smiled. "In that case, good luck," he said. "Now, if you'll allow me approximately one hour, I will send you back to the year 1542, and you will have your chance to get to know your ancestor."

Greenstone thanked him profusely, vigorously shaking hands, and left the house. In the meantime Leslie, with an ear out for any cries from her children, caught sight of Christian's expression and frowned a little. "What're you thinking, my love?" she asked.

Christian looked at her with a light in his eyes. "I'm beginning to have an idea," he said slowly. "Perhaps—" Roarke came back from seeing Greenstone out, and he turned to his father-in-law. "Mr. Roarke," he began, "perhaps you'd indulge me a question?"

"Of course, Christian, how can I help you?" Roarke asked.

"I think I'd like to go back myself," he said hesitantly, glancing at Leslie, whose eyes narrowed slightly. "Just to…to find out if Erik really was the loser history painted him as."

Roarke took in their expressions: Christian's hopeful, Leslie's a mixture of annoyance and jealousy. He waited, and sure enough, she couldn't hold still. "Without me?" she asked, sounding betrayed.

Startled, Christian whipped his head around to stare at her. "Well…" he began, clearly floundering for words. "Well…there are the triplets to consider…and," he added, inspiration seizing him, "Mr. Roarke did mention that you should expect another person to hold the bottle for whatever triplet is on…the…" His voice trailed off when her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open in disbelief.

"Christian," she protested, wounded.

Roarke leaned forward behind the desk where he had sat down again. "One moment, both of you. What sort of role would either of you play if you went back in time? How would you disguise yourselves to ensure that Mr. Greenstone doesn't recognize you? Do you feel it's a necessity for you both to go back?"

"But Leslie would be gone and there would be no way for the triplets to be fed, except via the bottle," said Christian, "and if she plans to continue breast-feeding till they begin on solid foods, then she can't miss a feeding if at all possible."

"That's a valid-enough argument," Roarke agreed, "but I repeat—how would you disguise yourself? What role would you play? It's not necessary for you to go back, Christian. Indeed, I submit that since it's your sister who's the family historian, as you've mentioned before, I would be more inclined to allow her to go back, were she here."

"But she isn't, and I am…and I can provide useful information for the family records," Christian said, sounding a little stubborn.

"Huh," said Leslie, folding her arms over her chest. "Do you see me investigating the history of the Hamilton curse? Heck no. I want nothing to do with any of that."

Christian raised an eyebrow at her and shot back, "This is different. And truly, you can't tell me you wouldn't be interested in going back and visiting your _mormor."_

Leslie reared back a little, stricken, and looked away. "Damn," she mumbled, mostly to herself, "I can't argue that point."

Roarke chuckled at that and said, "Perhaps I can allow you a short visit back, Christian, if you're determined to get a glimpse of your ancestor. But there's no reason for you to spend the entire weekend in the past. Mr. Greenstone will be seeing the past from his ancestor's point of view—which, if you'll consider it, was the opposing side from your point of view. Were it someone descended from one of the king's soldiers, for example, there would be somewhat more justification for you to go back."

Christian sighed gently and let himself fall back in his chair. "Ah well…I suppose a glimpse is better than nothing."

"And I could go back too," Leslie added, "if it's just a quick trip."

"No," Christian said abruptly, and then blinked and froze when Leslie gave him a stunned stare. He coughed and tried to backtrack. "That is…I wouldn't want you in the midst of whatever battle may be in progress…"

"Oh, and you think I want you in the middle of some swordfight?" Leslie retorted.

Roarke raised both hands. "Please, you two," he said. "Let me think about it, Christian, and in the meantime, suppose you both take a bit of a break, as long as Mariki and her staff are watching the triplets."

"Well enough," Christian agreed. "I'd like to drop in at the office anyhow and get an update on things." He looked at Leslie a little hesitantly. "If you'd like to come with me…"

Leslie, still feeling snubbed, gave him a frigid look and sniped, "Oh, I get to come to the office, but not back in time. Wow, what a great substitution."

Christian arose and threw his hands in the air. "Fine, then don't come. Excuse me, Mr. Roarke." With that he left, leaving his disgruntled wife behind, glaring at the wall.

"Leslie," Roarke said gently, "don't you think you overreacted?"

She sighed grumpily and said, "Oh, I'm sure I did. But really…" Leslie glanced at him and noticed he looked puzzled. "Okay, let me explain it to you. It's my job to do stuff like this, and everyone's excuse for not allowing me to is that I have the triplets to worry about. I can understand not spending the whole weekend there, but to be refused even an hour or two…I don't get it! Then Christian gets it into his head to go back, for no real reason he can come up with, and then says he doesn't want me there and gives this flimsy excuse! Well, fine, if that's the way it's going to be, what's the point in having Mariki and the staff sitting for the triplets in the first place?"

Roarke studied her for a drawn-out moment; she waited, returning his gaze. "What will you say if I let Christian go?" he asked.

"I'll ask to go too, of course," Leslie said promptly.

Roarke rested an elbow on the chair arm and smiled a little. "I suspect you want to accompany him solely out of jealousy," he said.

"Jealousy!" Leslie burst out, again bolting straight up in her chair.

"Precisely," Roarke said, the smile widening a bit. "The fact is, Leslie, you're beginning to feel constrained now, what with caring for the triplets. You may deny that you've started to resent being tethered to them, but it's very clear to me." He read her expression and lifted a hand. "Now, I am not saying you're regretting having had children—not at all. I know you love the babies very much. I simply think you didn't realize exactly how much effort is involved in caring for even one baby, let alone three at once, and seeing Christian begin to exert some of the relative freedom he has grates on your nerves. You want the same freedom, and it simply isn't possible, because at this age, the triplets need you more than they do Christian, on a physical basis." He relaxed. "Now…_if_ I send Christian back, it will be for only a short time, perhaps enough for him to observe King Erik from a distance, and perhaps you can go with him. But I caution you to remember that I haven't yet made my decision, and no amount of badgering from either you or Christian will speed the process. Now, since Christian has gone to his office and you rather bluntly elected not to accompany him, perhaps you'd like to help me send Mr. Greenstone back to 1542."

"That, I can do," said Leslie. "Thanks, Father." Then she frowned and shook her head. "I just wish I could figure out why Christian doesn't want me to go with him…"


	3. Chapter 3

§ § § -- August 7, 2004

"Hey, Boss Prince!" Jonathan exclaimed when Christian walked into the office. It was a slow morning, Christian noticed; everyone was there and working, but only one project waited on the table designated for backlogs. "How's it going?"

"Well enough, I suppose," said Christian, taking in the scene at a glance and favoring the group with a quick smile. "I thought I'd drop in for a while and find out the latest. Is there anything new and unusual to report?"

"I've checked your e-mail and forwarded a few things to your computer at home," said Mateo, "but that was early this morning and I don't know what may have come in since then. Since you're here, you might want to take a look."

"Perhaps so," Christian agreed, with a little less enthusiasm than he normally felt for his line of work. It felt a little strange to sit in the chair at his desk, after having been out of it for more than two months, and he sat quietly for a moment just reacclimating himself to the feeling of being there. _Depending on Leslie's ridiculous mood, perhaps I'll just remain till lunch,_ he thought, and then frowned. She'd kill him if she had any idea…

Shaking his head as though the movement would fling the troublesome thoughts away from him, he jiggled the computer mouse and watched his monitor come to life, then brought up his e-mail and signed in. He spent the next fifteen minutes or so going through messages, weeding out spam and updating the filter, then checking through the remaining ones and discarding what wasn't important. He took a few minutes to respond to one from Carl Johan, who informed him that Gabriella's plan to abolish the law that stripped expatriate princes and princesses of their royal status if they moved out of the country had somehow gotten hung up in the parliament and that Gabriella was very annoyed by the ongoing filibustering tactics of conservative southwestern district representatives. Christian let out a huff of amusement and typed back, _"Tell her she need not be in any hurry. Leslie has no wish to take on a title again, and I still don't know what use mine would be, on the other side of the world from my birthplace. Has she started planning the Christmas ball, the way she's made a habit of doing four months in advance of the event?"_ He wondered if Carl Johan would be awake and online to see the message and respond before Christian departed, and supposed there was a reasonable chance of it. With a sigh he sent the message and went on to knock off a few more.

Then he spotted one that had come in the previous day from the manager of his London office, and clicked on it. Allegra Post was a cheerful, efficient woman who had very favorably impressed Christian the year before when he'd been in London conducting interviews, and he'd never regretted trusting his instincts when he hired her. She ran the office with as deft a hand as Christian had ever seen, easily as well as Jörgen handled the Sundborg branch and Mateo the Fantasy Island one.

Christian's eyes went very wide as he read: _"Hello, Your Highness! I hope all is well with Mrs. Enstad and those adorable triplets. I thought you'd enjoy a fantastic piece of news. Just this past Wednesday we completed hammering out an incredibly lucrative contract with a company called History Hunters, Ltd., which is in the business of searching for shipwrecks. They are not a large organisation, but they've been very successful in ferreting out small, overlooked wrecks. Their computer system is stunningly out of date, and we have been called in to replace it. It's a major project and will involve outfitting not only their headquarters on land, but also their 'fleet' of three search vessels, as well as programming it so that the boats and the headquarters are all in contact at any given time. It's an incredible coup. There is just one thing: they would like very much if you, personally, could find the time to come to England and oversee the renovations, and not only that, but they would like to employ your website-creation services as well, to improve upon what they now have. We are not due to begin the work until 11 August, so that you have a chance to decide what you would like to do. I do apologise for the short notice, Your Highness, but if you believe you can travel here, please let me know and I'll pass the word along. If you need time to make the travel arrangements, I will be happy to take care of it for you if need be. Thanks, Allegra."_

"Amazing!" Christian murmured aloud, gaping. Slowly a grin began to spread over his features. Allegra was right—it was extremely short notice—but if he let Leslie know before the day was out, he could still make it to London in plenty of time to join his crew there for the renovation. It was just too good to pass up.

Then he frowned a little and slowly leaned back in his chair, one foot tapping quietly on the carpet, a finger against his lips. If he did go, it would mean extended time away from Leslie and the children. Christian would normally have told her without hesitation; but after their dust-up in Roarke's office earlier, he was no longer sure of her reaction. She'd had enough of a fit about his unwillingness to have her with him if Roarke let him go back in time during that fantasy. She'd probably have an incredible tantrum if he went to London without her. But if they both went, the triplets would have to go as well, and that could be quite expensive—not to mention complicated, what with all the baby paraphernalia and the extensive preparations they'd be forced to make.

He sighed and shook his head. Conceivably, he could do the website work from here, and from the tone of Allegra's message, his presence for the upgrade work wasn't imperative. He could certainly stay here on the island. But the fact was, he wanted to go. Christian wanted to make an in-person visit to that branch, for it would be the first time he'd done so since it had opened; and if they took Ingrid with them, they could manage with the triplets, despite the enormous airfare he expected to have to fork over. Perhaps the travel agent here could find some bargains they could use. His enthusiasm perking back up, Christian minimized the window, brought up the Internet and began to check out airfares.

‡ ‡ ‡

Leslie was sitting quietly in the little-used dining room at the main house, with the girls at the breast this time. She'd just begun the feeding, with a happy Mariki giving Tobias a bottle in the kitchen. Lunch was in another hour, and she was beginning to wonder if Christian planned to come back for that.

It was a little lonely in here, she thought, even though she was glad for the privacy that Mariki and the staff had provided her with. Trying to dispel the quiet, she talked softly to Karina and Susanna, one arm around each girl as she supported them on an old blanket on her lap, with the stroller waiting nearby to hold them when they were finished. Then someone tapped on the door and she looked up. "Yes?" she said.

"Leslie, it's Michiko—is it all right if I come in?"

"Oh, absolutely, come on in," Leslie said, brightening. Michiko came into the room and lit up when she saw Leslie feeding her daughters.

"There's two of those precious little ones!" she cooed, pulling out the nearest chair to Leslie and sitting down. "What happened to your son and his father?"

Leslie looked at her in surprise. "You can tell them apart already? They all still wear sleepers most of the time, and those aren't really geared to either boys or girls."

Michiko grinned and said, "Well, I just made a lucky guess, actually. Maybe you should think about getting those cute little headbands they make for baby girls and having Susanna and Karina wear those." She shifted in her seat. "You didn't answer my question."

"Oh, well…" Leslie smiled. "Tobias is in the kitchen with Mariki—she's feeding him, and a happier woman you never saw, after all the time she spent bugging me and Christian to let her babysit. She's thrilled silly." Michiko laughed, and Leslie's smile faded as she drew in a breath. "Christian's over at his office…he's been there for hours now."

"That shouldn't be a surprise," said Michiko, "considering his ongoing fascination with computers and everything connected with them. Errico wants to talk to him about opening a branch of his business in Santi Arcuros. He says he wants to outfit the entire palace with an internal computer system, and Christian's the only person he trusts the project to. I told him to settle down since Christian's still on paternity leave."

Leslie made a noncommittal noise, looking down at her two daughters, still busily feeding. "That'd definitely interest him, though."

"Something's wrong," Michiko deduced.

Leslie looked up and nodded, then told her about the latest time-travel fantasy and Christian's strange refusal to have her accompany him. "I don't know what it's about," she said. "It galls me that he and everybody else can use the triplets as an excuse for me not to go. And I don't object to not spending a full weekend at it. But only for an hour or two?"

Michiko nodded slowly. "That sounds reasonable. But maybe Christian has some other reason for not wanting you to go."

"He said he did," Leslie muttered. "He claims he doesn't want me there in case there's a battle. But the same reasoning could apply to him."

"True," Michiko agreed. She grinned. "Who knows, Leslie. He's a guy, and there's no understanding them. The curse of the sexes…we can't understand each other."

Leslie had to laugh, and shook her head slowly, letting her gaze return to the babies. "I just hope he comes back for lunch so we can talk things out and get back on even footing. It wasn't quite a fight, but we weren't exactly hanging all over each other."

Michiko laughed. "Don't worry, Leslie, he loves you too much not to. Uh, by the way, it looks as if that big cookout I was hoping to host is a washout instead. I've been trying to wear my parents down, but they're a little leery, and I can't figure out why."

Leslie remembered her talk about Toki with Christian and Roarke some time ago, and eyed Michiko curiously. "I'm not saying I have the answer, but…well, how much contact do your parents have with Alexander and Noelle?"

"They haven't seen them since Myeko got married to Nick," said Michiko and smiled ruefully. "I'm way ahead of you, Leslie. As a matter of fact, I thought giving my parents a chance to see Alexander and Noelle again would be a wonderful side benefit of having everybody come over. But believe it or not, they won't host the cookout just for that reason. They know Myeko and Toki don't have a good relationship and that Alexander and Noelle don't go to see him anymore, and they're afraid of making their lives too complicated. They can tell Toki's not too concerned about seeing the kids, and they seem to be taking their cue from him in a way. I think they believe Alexander and Noelle look at Nick as their father, and they don't want to disrupt that."

"But that isn't fair to them," said Leslie, astonished. "It sounds to me like they're making a needless sacrifice. Do you think it would do any good to talk to Myeko about it?"

Michiko sighed. "I don't know if it would matter. Myeko and I have known each other since we both started school, and I can still remember the first time she ever came home with me. My parents are very Japanese and very traditional, while her mom and dad are a lot more informal. I always enjoyed going to visit the Senseis, but Myeko was never comfortable coming to our house. I'd go so far as to say she was afraid of my parents—she said once that she was terrified she'd do something that would breach good manners."

"Does Myeko know about this big cookout yet?" Leslie asked, just as Karina let go of her. She looked down and smiled at the baby, who immediately smiled back.

"I mentioned it to her, but she didn't sound too enthusiastic," Michiko admitted. "I don't know. Maybe it's not really worth the effort."

Leslie half-smiled and said, "You never know. Toki may not miss Noelle and Alexander, but I'm sure your parents do."

"They've adjusted themselves to not seeing them," said Michiko. "And I don't think they're going to make any effort towards reconciliation. Sometimes I wonder if it's really my place to try to bring the family back together. I'm sure they aren't happy at the virtual loss of two of their grandchildren, but they won't talk about it."

"Makes me wonder if anyone's asked Alexander and Noelle what they'd like to do," Leslie murmured. "Come on, Karina, sweetie, burp for Mommy." She had slid her arm along Karina's back enough to awkwardly pat it, but it wasn't helping much.

"Oh, here, let me do that," said Michiko, grabbing a cloth napkin off the top of a short stack on the table near Leslie and throwing it over her shoulder. "You've got your hands full all right, trying to juggle two babies at once." She lifted Karina up and cradled the baby against her shoulder, gently patting her back.

"Thanks, Michiko," Leslie said, her smile finally heartfelt. "Karina's always the first one to finish, and if she's not on the bottle at a given feeding, it's hard on me because whichever other triplet is with me is usually nowhere close to being done. Not to change the subject here, but I heard through a rather noisy grapevine that you're going to be flying a brand-new royal jet all the way from Honolulu to Santi Arcuros when it comes time for you to leave! Is that right, or am I just listening to green-eyed monsters?"

Michiko giggled. "It's true. I think Errico decided it was time the royal family of Arcolos had its own plane, so that we could hop off to overseas functions at a moment's notice. It's an awful extravagance, but those rainbow gems will buy all sorts of unheard-of luxuries. Even the British royal family can't boast its own private jet." Leslie laughed, and Michiko grinned broadly. "That reminds me, by the way. Errico told me that if I couldn't talk Christian into a trip to Santi Arcuros to meet with him, I should offer the use of our jet, so he can avoid paying commercial airfares."

With a laugh, Leslie said, "Well, I suppose I can mention it to him. He had actually talked about opening a branch in Santi Arcuros, but the London branch came first and took up more time and money than he'd anticipated. He didn't want to spread the company finances too thin, so the Santi Arcuros project went on indefinite hold. He may not feel it's the right time just yet. But I'll toss it at him and let you know what he says."

As it happened, she didn't get the chance. Shortly after the triplets had been changed and settled into their infant carriers for a nap, Christian returned to the main house and took his usual chair at the lunch table. "Well," he said without waiting for anyone to greet him, "you'll never guess what just dropped into my lap." Roarke and Leslie both paused to look at him; his eyes were alight and there was an eager, excited look on his face. "My office manager in London tells me they've received a request from a shipwreck-search outfit to upgrade and renovate their computer system, and they want me to overhaul their website. Moreover, Allegra says they've asked if I can go there and attend to it personally."

Roarke looked at him in amazement. "Surely they don't expect you to singlehandedly do all the work," he said with a half-grin.

Christian laughed and resettled himself in the chair. "No, I suppose I should have put that differently. They do want me there, but I guess I'll mostly be supervising and doing the website work. I don't have much time to decide, because Allegra says it's to begin on Wednesday. It could be quite the windfall for Enstads Datoservice." Though he'd had branches in English-speaking territories for several years, Leslie had noticed, he still tended to refer to his business by its original _jordisk_ name.

"It would seem so," said Roarke. "Wednesday, you said? That gives you very little notice. Have you made the decision yet?"

Christian shook his head and said, "I've been researching airfares, and the prices worry me a little. I asked Jonathan to collaborate with Neil in London and see what might be available in the corporate coffers."

"So when do you plan to leave?" Leslie asked in a flat, calm voice.

Christian looked at her in surprise. "I haven't made any plans yet," he said. "As a matter of fact, I thought it might work out for you and the triplets to come."

"But it would cost too much," Leslie said, as if filling in his unspoken thought.

"I don't know that yet," Christian said, clearly trying to remain calm. He eyed her, sitting there with a fork in her hand and her eyes on her plate, and asked, "Are you still upset with me about this morning, then?"

Leslie looked up at him then, her voice plaintive. "Christian, I just wish you'd tell me why you don't want me with you if Father lets you visit Finn Greenstone's fantasy."

"Oh," Christian murmured, clearing his throat. "Truly, my Rose, I think you'd be bored. It's just Erik the Loser."

She watched him till he eventually met her gaze, and then shook her head. "You're being too evasive, Christian Enstad. There has to be more to it than that. Why don't you want me to know?" She glanced at Roarke just as a thought hit her, and said, "What's the bet it's something dangerous, or impossible?"

Roarke smiled at that. "Don't rule out the impossible, Leslie."

"But you told Finn Greenstone it's impossible to change history," Leslie pointed out. "Evidently, not quite everything can be done here after all."

Abruptly Christian said, "Impossible, hm? Well, let me tell you this much, Leslie. If the impossible can't be done here, then the point is moot. Suppose we drop the whole thing, all right?"

Leslie was left sitting there blinking at him, watching him begin to eat with singular concentration on his food. Finally she protested, "But Christian…I just wanted to know…" He glanced at her for half a second but didn't respond otherwise, and she rolled her eyes. "Okay, fine. All I wanted to know was why you're so eager to go back. But if that's the secret of the century and for some reason I'm not allowed to know, then a thousand pardons for asking. Go ahead, keep it to yourself." Annoyed, she too began to dig into her lunch.

"I think that will be quite enough between you two," Roarke said firmly, making them both pause and stare warily at him. "Perhaps I had better settle this myself. Christian, in light of what this seems to be doing to you and Leslie, I think I had better insist on the real reason you want to return to the past. If you're reluctant to divulge it, I can only draw the conclusion that it must carry some risk."

Christian frowned, considered it for a moment, then sighed. "Well, I did just tell Leslie it's a moot point, and it is. You see, Mr. Roarke, it was my hope that perhaps I could find a way to rescue the original crown after its loss. To tell you the truth, I wasn't fully convinced it was really feasible, but I would have liked the chance to go back just to see if there could have been a way." He jammed his fork into a slice of ham. "However, I've met with such opposition that I see no point in belaboring the issue, so I'd like it to be known officially that I retract the request. That should make everyone happy."

"But…" Leslie ventured, hesitated, then gave up with a headshake when Christian ignored her. "Never mind." To her disgust she heard threatening tears in her voice, and glared at her plate, watching everything on it waver while her eyes filled despite her fervent wish that they wouldn't.

Then Christian asked, "But what?"

Listlessly Leslie mumbled, "Just wondered why that'd make you want to exclude me from the trip back, that's all, but it's not worth asking."

She looked up, the tears still in her eyes, when Christian laid a hand on her arm. "Of course it's worth asking, my Rose," he assured her gently. "I'm sorry. I only feared that you'd have objections to the idea should I explain myself. Now you don't have anything to worry about, since I won't be going. Don't waste any more time fretting about it, all right? And please don't cry." He smiled, and she managed to return it.

"I'm sorry I got so snippy, my love," Leslie murmured. "It just…bothered me, I guess, that you wanted to run off into a fantasy and leave me behind, especially since it's my job."

Christian laughed. "Oh, I see…it looked to you as if I was somehow usurping your prerogative around here, is that it? Ah, well, I imagine I can understand it to a point." He patted her arm and sat back. "Would you be interested in a trip to London? I don't know exactly how long this assignment will last, but if everything goes smoothly we can probably be back here in time for you to resume your job in September. And if you think you're up to managing three small babies on a flight to the other side of the world…"

"Well, we'd be taking Ingrid, I assume," said Leslie. "My only wish is that we didn't have to worry about a couple hundred other passengers on transoceanic flights. We'd have to have a whole row of seats to ourselves—both sides, probably—and there's the question of feeding them, and changing them, and keeping them as calm as possible in transit."

"I admit there'd be problems, but we're down to one of two choices—I go alone, or all five of us go, along with Ingrid. If the triplets were older, it would be easier for it to be just you and I." Christian shrugged amiably at her rueful nod. "There's still a little time to discuss it, though. No need to get into it here. So how are the triplets doing?"

Their lunch ended on a much higher note than it had begun, and Christian checked on the babies, who were still sleeping, before kissing Leslie and returning to his office. Roarke went out to check on a fantasy, leaving Leslie at the desk prepared to take any messages or deal with guests. It was quiet, though, and she sat for some time thinking about the lunch conversation and Christian's wish. And then she had an idea, which by the time Roarke returned had become the dominant thought in her mind.


	4. Chapter 4

§ § § -- August 7, 2004

"Are there any emergencies?" he inquired, coming down from the foyer into the study and leaving a stack of mail on the desk.

Leslie stood up, shaking his head. "No, there's nothing pressing, but I was just thinking about Christian wanting to go back to see King Erik. Father…" She paused a moment, trying to find the best way to formulate the question, while Roarke waited with patient curiosity. "Suppose Christian did go back?"

Roarke chuckled and reminded her, "You yourself pointed out that it's not possible to change history."

"I know," said Leslie. "But I was thinking over the way Christian phrased his request to go back. He said he would have liked to know if there _could have been_ a way to retrieve the crown. You see?" she said, her excitement rising at Roarke's thoughtful look. "Not so much that he meant to actually try to go after it—just to see if it might have been possible! In light of that, wouldn't it be less of a risk?"

"It wouldn't entirely eliminate the risk he would be taking," Roarke said. "In order to determine the chances that the crown could have been brought back to the surface, he will have to be there for the battle and the king's assassination. However, yes—since he won't make an actual attempt to rescue the crown, it would indeed be less of a risk." He smiled at her. "Very well, when we see Christian at dinner this evening, I'll let him know."

By then the triplets were awake, and Mariki helped Leslie put them in their stroller so they could be with their parents and grandfather during the adults' meal. Christian came across the porch just as Leslie was on her way out with the stroller, and lit up at sight of his family there. "Well, it's good to see all four of you!"

"I'm glad you came back too," Leslie teased him, grinning. "Hey, they must've missed you after all. Look at them smiling back at you!"

Christian met up with them and knelt down in front of the stroller, beaming at his children and talking to them in _jordiska_. Roarke came out a moment later and took his usual chair, chuckling softly at the sights of Christian enjoying his offspring and Leslie watching him with a soft, dreamy smile. Christian took the time to give each triplet a kiss atop the head and a little tickle under the chin before straightening up, leaning over the stroller and kissing Leslie. "Have you seen what Mariki's menu is going to be?"

"Nice and light," Leslie said. "Father likes gazpacho, so we have it a lot in the summer along with a big salad and clarified pineapple juice. There's usually ice cream for dessert."

"That sounds very tempting," said Christian and sat down. Leslie positioned the stroller so that the triplets could see both her and their father, then took her own chair, just as Mariki came out with her cart. The cook tried to tease the triplets into smiling at her while she was doling out serving dishes, but the babies merely stared at her, making Roarke, Christian and Leslie all start to laugh.

"Really," grumbled Mariki. "I fed two of them today, you know—you'd think they'd be a little more grateful than that."

Leslie snickered and said, "I hope you're not expecting to hear 'thank you, Mariki' from them anytime soon. Oh, look, Christian, that looks like that all-inclusive salad you told me you grew up on…whatever it was called."

"_Allasallad,"_ Christian supplied, peering into the large crystal bowl that Mariki set out, "and yes, I think you're right. This should be the perfect final meal of the day. There, you see, Mariki, at least you'll get an expression of appreciation from me, if not the babies."

Laughter broke out at that; Susanna chortled, her tiny baby voice mingling with those of the adults and making Mariki blink. "Well, well…one of them already laughs, huh? Okay, I'll cut them a little slack this time. And your remark is received with…well, good humor, if not exactly gratitude, Prince Christian." Amid the new chuckles, she grinned and took her cart back to the kitchen.

The conversation dealt with odds and ends of the day before Leslie cleared her throat. "I hope you didn't plan to spend all day tomorrow at your office, my love."

Christian eyed her blankly. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, you should set aside at least an hour, maybe two," Leslie told him and smiled. "Father decided to give you the chance to look in on Finn Greenstone's fantasy and see the battle that resulted in the loss of the crown."

Christian caught his breath and then stared at her, his eyes widening. "What? But I had already…that is, I said I'd retracted the request…" He suddenly grinned. "Thank you, Mr. Roarke, for whatever made you change your mind about it!"

Roarke smiled and informed him, "Actually, Christian, Leslie pointed out to me that you had said you'd like to see if the possibility of retrieving the crown existed, as opposed to your making an actual attempt to do so. Of course, you realize there is still a certain risk involved, but far less so than in the scenario we had thought you were suggesting."

"Ach," Christian said and burst into laughter again. "I can swim, all right, but I'm no diver…and I certainly wouldn't want to dive into the North Sea, cold as it is. No, all I wanted to know is whether there were any chance to find it again." He turned to Leslie and covered her hand with his. "Thank you, my darling—that was quite unexpected."

She shrugged and smiled. "Well, after lunch, I started thinking about it, and I realized what your exact words had been. I hope you get good news out of it."

"We'll see, I imagine," Christian mused, squeezing her hand. "So, Mr. Roarke, what time are you thinking of having me go back?"

§ § § -- August 8, 2004

Mariki and her staff had insisted on watching the triplets again, having fallen like a bunch of rocks under the babies' spell. It was about mid-afternoon on Sunday, and Christian stood in front of the time-travel-room door with Roarke and Leslie, paging through a copy of his sister's history book that had been published twelve years before. "It says here," he said when he found the relevant page, "that only a few of the contingent that went out with Erik returned after the battle. They told a tale of furious fighting, not just man to man, but ship to ship as well, using everything from Viking-vintage flaming arrows to swords and muskets and ship's cannon. Anna-Laura notes herein that they had little to tell, because there were perhaps a dozen or so of them, and they were heavily affected by exhaustion from fighting—first in their own defense and then for their lives—and grief at the king's death. She infers from what they do say that at least one of the ships went down, but it isn't known which one."

"Then you'd better be sure there's the local equivalent of a lifeboat when you get there, first thing," Leslie said firmly.

Roarke nodded. "Wise advice, Leslie. Christian, you should have more than enough time to see the entire battle from beginning to end. But once it does end, especially if you find that it's the ship on which you stand that is in danger of sinking, you must find a means of escape as quickly as possible. That's the only way Leslie can bring you back."

Christian looked up and cleared his throat delicately. "Um…about Leslie." He looked at his wife, who peered quizzically back. "I've been thinking about it, and…well, if you're willing to disguise yourself as a man, perhaps, to blend in with the soldiers, you might like to come with me after all. That is, if you want to."

Leslie stared at him, blinking once or twice, then lunged forward and wrapped her arms tightly around him. "Oh, Christian, my love." He closed the book, chuckling and returning her embrace, and she drew her head back. "Funny, I've been thinking about it too, and it occurred to me that no matter how much I might want to go with you, I probably wouldn't get away with any kind of disguise. Besides, I guess I'm too chicken to go back and witness swordfights and gunfire, and dodge cannonballs and bullets…and especially to see that Irish glory-seeker do in King Erik. So I guess I'll wait here with Father."

Laughing softly, Christian hugged her close. "I'll miss you, but I'll take my comfort in knowing you're safe. Well enough, then, just show me what I'm to wear."

Roarke smiled at them. "Since you two have come to a conclusion, then Leslie, why don't you see him off. Just let me know if you have any questions."

Leslie brought Christian into the time-travel room and took note of the accoutrements waiting there for him. "Oh, good. Suit of chain mail with breastplate and helmet, check…sword, check…linen clothing, check. Okay, go ahead and change."

"Stay here with me and tell me what exactly I'll be going into," Christian said, already removing his own clothing. "Where will I land when I first walk in? How long will I be there? And will the translation device be in place?"

Leslie giggled, watching him toss his jeans over the back of a chair. "From what I hear from Father, you'll join the contingent of soldiers King Erik calls up, just as they're gathering in front of the castle to march to the royal marina." She saw his startled look emerge from his dark-blue T-shirt as he pulled it off, and nodded. "Obviously it was destroyed or dismantled somewhere down the line, but there was one then."

"Perhaps it was Erik's extravagance," Christian mused, examining the linen shirt before tugging it on. "After all, Mr. Roarke did say he was a great one for showing off the things his treasury could procure."

"That's possible," agreed Leslie. "So anyway, that's where you'll end up when you first get there. I'm not sure how long you'll be in 1542—obviously through the entire battle, but we don't know how long it took. And yes, their archaic _jordiska_ will be translated into modern _jordiska_, and vice versa. Try to think of it as an adventure."

Christian rolled his eyes, pulling on the woolen pants. "I did exhibit a certain amount of enthusiasm about going back, didn't I. Me and my big mouth." Leslie laughed and he gave her a dirty look that melted into a reluctant smile. "Suppose you help me get this chain mail on. I saw a suit of it at the historical museum in Dalslund, when I cut the ribbon at its grand opening, and they told me it was quite heavy, even with only the chest and knee plates as additional protection."

"I should think so," Leslie said, helping him lift the chain-mail leggings. "Wow, they're right! Just trying to move around in this stuff is going to give you more exercise than even your longest run on any beach could do."

Christian grinned ruefully, struggling into the chain mail. "I'm sure it will. And what will I have for a weapon, then? If I'm going in disguised as a soldier, I'll certainly have to have something with which to defend myself."

"You'll have a nice shiny sword and a musket," said Leslie. "I don't know how familiar you are with firearms…"

"I haven't dealt with any since I did my military service," Christian admitted, shrugging and reaching for the chain-mail shirt. "Perhaps I'll be better off slinking around the back of the regiment and hoping no one takes too much notice of me."

Laughing, Leslie helped him don the chest and knee plates, remarking, "Frankly, I'd feel better if you did! Well, how does it feel?"

"Heavy," said Christian, staring down at himself. "And I'm already beginning to perspire in this thing. I suppose it's the price I pay for my folly. Well, let me get that helmet and gather up my weapons, and get all this done and over with."

A few minutes later Leslie paused at the secondary door in the room, her hand on the knob, her eyes on her husband's. "You'll probably recognize the terrain, so I won't worry so much about that. But once you're on the water, locate a lifeboat and try to stick near it if you possibly can. If it's the king's ship that starts to sink, don't worry about women and children first—there won't be any—or looking like a coward. Just get to that lifeboat, because that's where I'll come in to bring you back here. Otherwise I'll just appear on the ship itself, somewhere away from as many eyes as possible."

"Well enough," Christian agreed. "Any other instructions?"

His voice was wryly amused, and she grinned, stretching up a little to plant a kiss on his lips. "Yes," she said softly, sobering. "Stay safe, my darling, whatever you do."

"I'll do my very best," he promised quietly. "I love you, my Leslie Rose. Believe me, I'll be very glad to see you when it's time for me to come back."

"Good," she said and smiled again. "Good luck, my love." With that, she opened the door, stepped aside to let him through, putting on the helmet as he went, and pulled it shut again, sighing heavily. "Cripes," she muttered. "Think I'll ask Father how long I have to wait to go get him…"

‡ ‡ ‡

Just as Leslie had said, Christian found himself among a small group of soldiers, arranged in neat and orderly rows; he glanced surreptitiously around him, taking his cue from his companions and standing straight and still. He didn't have to wait long; a loud, deep voice from somewhere ahead of him shouted, "We go now!" and the entire group began to march forward in measured cadence. No one said anything; Christian continued to follow their lead, unwilling to draw more attention to himself than he absolutely had to.

Shortly he spotted the marina Leslie had mentioned. It wasn't quite what he had expected: it was really no more than a very long wooden dock, with surprisingly small ships moored on both sides. The silence was quite heavy by now, broken by nothing other than the sound of the ocean washing onto the shore. At this point, perhaps a kilometer beyond the castle itself, the cliffs began to lose height and continued to do so as far north as he could see from here, till they eventually gave way to small, narrow beaches near the point where the shores of Lilla Jordsö began to curve east. It was the same as in his own time, and it told him almost exactly where he was: some few hundred meters from the north boundary of the castle grounds, which in the present day was marked by a tall iron fence. In this time, the fence didn't yet exist, and there was no landscaping at all that he recalled seeing. The castle itself, though, was as he knew it…at least from the outside.

He boarded a vessel called _Kungliga Äran_—_Royal Glory_—with the rest of the regiment and made certain to note the location of the nearest lifeboat, then looked curiously around him. To his surprise, there was no sign of anyone else aboard, just the chain-mail-and-plate-clad soldiers. Like him, they were all wearing helmets, hiding their faces and making him feel as though he were in the company of so many antique, uninhabited suits of armor. He peered around and noticed that a couple of the guys nearest him were beginning to shift their weight back and forth as the regiment stood waiting for their ruler, and he dared lean close to one and mutter, "Where is the king?"

"His Majesty delights in grand entrances," the soldier replied, a disembodied, muffled voice behind a steel mask. "We are to wait upon his timely arrival." This was followed with a snort that made Christian grin.

"Silence there!" the loud, deep voice boomed from up front, and Christian settled back into an at-ease stance, gathering his patience. He was able to wait only so long before that patience began to run out, and he supposed that had a lot to do with his long wait to marry Leslie. He smiled at the mental image of her, then carefully tucked away all thoughts of her and their children. He'd had ample enough warning of the dangers he faced here that he fully intended to maintain the highest possible level of alertness that he could.

Mutterings began from up front, and then came the deep voice again: "The king approaches! Stand tall in respect for His Majesty!" Christian drew himself into the stiff military stance he'd so often employed during his mandatory service so many years ago and squinted through the eyeholes in the helmet. He wasn't allowed to turn his head, though, so he had to wait till the king came into the limited field of vision the helmet afforded him. When he did, Christian had to stifle a gasp of sheer disbelief.

King Erik VII was clad in brilliant-purple robes that swirled around his highly polished black leather boots; the cloak was trimmed in white silk to match the clothing beneath it. Christian tried to remember the name of the odd-looking ribbed red velvet jacket the king wore over his white silk shirt—oh yes, a doublet, that was it. The white silk pants ballooned out at the knees where they were tucked into the boots. Erik, Christian noticed to his amused surprise, had brilliantly red hair, almost flame-colored, as if he were the long-lost brother of Roarke's guest whose fantasy Christian was indirectly participating in now. _I wonder if that was Queen Gudrun's legacy, or someone else's?_ he thought, smirking behind his helmet. _Apparently it died out somewhere down the way, since there's not one Enstad on record with hair of that color._ Erik wore his hair loose, falling around his shoulders in a slight wave; and atop the flame-colored tresses perched the crown, which all by itself took Christian's breath. It was bigger than the present-day crown, studded with so many gems that he couldn't quite tell what the crown itself was made of, and smack in center front was mounted a very large rainbow gem. _"The crown jewels…had been fashioned at great effort and expense,"_ Roarke had said. No question about the truth of that, Christian mused in astonishment, especially not with that rainbow gem holding the place of honor as it did. Several generations of monarchs must have set aside money for decades to obtain that bauble.

Christian watched his ancestor till the man vanished from his field of vision; a moment later the deck rocked gently, signaling Erik's boarding, and again the deep voice shouted, "His Majesty joins us! All pay respect!" Along with the others, Christian dropped to one knee and murmured a welcome. _Welcome to your death, ancestor mine…_

With Erik aboard, the pace picked up. The mooring ropes were cast off and the ship nosed its way into the North Sea, bouncing rapidly atop the waves. Christian peered at the sky; it was overcast for the most part, with a few blue spaces here and there through which the sun cast the occasional bright spot on the water. With his back to shore, he had no way of gauging how far out they were venturing, but it was no more than fifteen or twenty minutes before they spotted the dark shapes of other vessels ahead. "The vassal's word is good, Your Majesty!" came the deep voice again, and Christian wondered who its owner was. "There lie the accursed Irish raiders now, just awaiting us!"

"They'll soon see with whom they trifle," Erik announced with great self-satisfaction. "Put on all speed forward, so that we can dispatch them at haste!"

Christian spared one hurried glance behind him. The _jordisk_ shore was still within sight, but the castle was no more than a rise on the landscape this far out. He didn't suppose anyone was going to take a depth reading, however primitive, at this stage of the game, and he shook his head to himself. Something compelled him to break rank and push ahead, trying to get to the king, wanting a word or two with the monarch history would know as Erik the Loser. Was there any chance of talking sense into him?


	5. Chapter 5

§ § § -- August 8, 2004 1542

A few voices rose in protest or indignation as he plowed his way along, but he took no heed. Subconsciously the prince in him had risen to the fore, and he had no time or patience for common soldiers. He dodged ship's cannon—surprisingly big, mean-looking ones—and milling, restless soldiers, finally coming within reach of the king and a burly man in full plate armor but for his helmet. The latter was several inches taller than Christian and easily towered over King Erik. "Sire!" Christian hailed his ancestor.

Erik turned and peered at him, but his enormous companion spoke. "Kneel to your sovereign, soldier!" he thundered.

Annoyed, Christian sketched the quickest of bows. "Sire, I beg for a moment of your time," he said, trying despite his feeling of urgency to choose his words with care. "Do you think it wise to endanger yourself here, standing in the open as you are? We depend upon you as our leader, and should something happen to you…"

Erik grinned and remarked to his companion, "Well, Asgar, it seems we have one who is concerned for my life. You see the loyalty I inspire in my men—I told you we picked only the best of the best, did I not?" He turned to Christian. "Remove your helmet, soldier, so that I may see you and reassure you directly."

Christian lifted the helmet from his head, blowing out a breath of relief as the cool breeze caught him. It was incredibly hot under all that metal. "Your Majesty," he said.

Erik regarded him with an avuncular smile. "Tell me, soldier, do all the women cry when you leave your hometown to serve with me?" Christian wanted to roll his eyes, but he only half-smiled. Erik laughed and nudged Asgar. "Eyes off, you overgrown lout. The soldier is clearly of a mind for business only." To Christian he said cheerfully, "I keep him around because he so easily intimidates rowdy soldiers into doing my bidding, but he has a strange penchant for young men, and it baffles me. The comelier, the better. Ah, well, enough…"

"Agreed, sire," Christian said, sparing Asgar just one look. Sure enough, the big brute was studying him with intense interest. "I am wed more than three years, and very happy." Asgar let out a regretful sigh, and Christian smiled again, very faintly, and turned to Erik. "These Irishmen…pirates…I have heard they are ruthless, and care nothing for whom they deal with, only that they take away as much treasure as they can lay their hands on. They care not who dies in the process. To them, gold is worth more than any man's life, including that of a king. These pirates are only barbarians."

"You're so worried?" Erik said, grinning.

"For you, Majesty," Christian said. "It's noble that we defend our shores, but as our king, you take needless risks with your life."

"Ah, but I have Asgar!" Erik said merrily, giving the name's owner a friendly shove. "He has never failed to protect me. However, soldier, if you think I need extra shielding, you may stay at my side and fight for me and the honor of all Lilla Jordsö."

Christian stared at him for a moment, his stomach going into a steep dive. He could back off and risk being called coward, or he could stay here and put himself in the same danger Erik faced. He cleared his throat. "Sire…" he began.

Then Asgar spoke up. "He is wed, sire, you have heard him say it," he said, "and much as I regret hearing that, I think it the height of folly that a married man should volunteer to make his wife a widow and his children orphans. Back to your post, soldier, and fear not, either you or my liege, for I am enough protection to keep His Majesty safe."

_Oh no you're not,_ Christian thought, but decided he might as well quit while he was ahead. There was no arguing with a man that size, and anyway, Leslie and Roarke had both said history was unchangeable. All he could say was, "Take all possible care, Your Majesty," and back away, waiting till he'd returned to his previous position before reluctantly putting the helmet back on.

They were almost close enough now to the Irish pirate ships to see individual faces. Christian scanned the nearest vessel, amazed at the boldness of the invaders; they wore chain mail without plate or helmets, and they were armed only with swords, bows and arrows. The lead ship was outfitted with a cannon about the size of their own, but it was the only one so armed. From up front he heard Erik and Asgar laughing, and rolled his eyes. Overconfidence had been the downfall of many a man, and even if he hadn't known how history was going to play out, he'd still have been able to predict the ending of this skirmish. All he could do was stand and watch helplessly, while the vessels drew within striking distance and Erik climbed atop a capstan, raising one arm high in the air.

"Hear me, you foreign invaders," he shouted, "and turn back now! These waters wash upon the shores of Lilla Jordsö, and we have a proud and fierce history of defending our sovereign kingdom from the likes of you! Note also that you face none other than the ruler himself, for I am King Erik, seventh of that name, sole ruler over all Lilla Jordsö!"

"Saints preserve us," Christian muttered. The man next to him gave him a startled look, then chuckled aloud. "My friend, is this the first time you witness His Majesty's personal defense of our shores?" he asked.

"It is that," Christian said sourly, "and it's also the last." Even as he spoke, the nearest Irish ship collided gently with the _Royal Glory_, and a man with hair as vividly red as King Erik's leaped from his ship to theirs, shouted something in Irish and advanced on Erik. Asgar drew his sword and slashed it down on the Irishman's; the latter man bellowed, forced Asgar's sword up and aside so that it flew out of his hand and over the side, and then snagged the king by his long purple robe and thrust his sword right through him. Christian swallowed back nausea at the sight of the sword's point underneath the robe's fabric, but he couldn't turn away despite himself. _The crown,_ he thought suddenly, and lunged forward.

But the Irishman was just too quick. Christian had gotten no more than three or four steps ahead when Erik sagged to the deck, the huge crown slipping off his head and right into the waiting hands of the pirate. A roar went up at sight of this, and everyone around Christian pressed forward in an attempt to avenge their slain king.

The pirate saw them coming, laughed loudly and whipped around, taking off for safety at a wild run. Asgar gave chase, but the pirate was too quick even for him; and as Christian and all the others watched, he launched himself off the bow toward his own ship, which drifted nearby. Unfortunately for the pirate, though, the gap between his home vessel and the _Royal Glory_ had rapidly widened in the time it had taken him to kill the king and seize the crown. The pirate himself realized this in mid-air, and his triumphant shout became a panicked screech as he fell into the choppy North Sea, easily several meters short of his goal. Christian groaned quietly. "The crown, the crown!" the cry went up around him.

Asgar's booming voice carried easily over every other sound in the area. "Seize that renegade when he returns to the surface!" he roared. "That murdering thief cannot be allowed to steal Lilla Jordsö's greatest treasure!"

Several soldiers gathered ropes and lined up along the side, waiting for the pirate to bob back above the water with crown in hand. Christian pushed forward, trying to get to Erik, trying to see what was happening—anything to keep from standing there and just letting events unfold while he gaped. He glanced down at Erik as he drew up alongside him and winced; Erik was obviously beyond all help, for the pirate had pierced his heart. He lay staring sightlessly into the sky with wide green eyes, his mouth open, an expression of sheer shock and disbelief on his face.

"_Herregud,_ Erik," Christian muttered, kneeling for a moment beside him. "What on earth could you have been thinking?" He swallowed to brace himself, then reached out and drew Erik's eyelids closed before pushing himself back to his feet. Resolutely he erased the sight of the dead king from his mind and made his way to the rail, where he stared over the side. A few bubbles were breaking on the surface, but there was no sign of the pirate or the stolen crown. Christian shot a look back toward shore once again and estimated they must be some ten miles out, which would make the water too deep for recovery.

Asgar came up beside him. "Soldier, what of His Majesty?" he demanded. Even his whisper seemed like faraway thunder.

"He is dead," Christian replied bluntly. "If I were you, I'd give the order to attack now while all sides are still in shock." Both _jordiska_ and Irish men were silent with amazement at the fact that the pirate had gone under—the _jordisk_ side at the loss of king and crown, the Irish side unable to believe that their bold and fearless comrade had ultimately failed to win the booty he'd gone after.

Asgar wasted no time acknowledging this. _"To battle!!"_ he bellowed, and instantly the _jordiska_ soldiers raised arms and began firing. Men clustered around the cannons and prepared them for shooting; meantime, the pirates belatedly scrambled to defend themselves and put up their own fight. About to pull out his musket, Christian found himself held fast by Asgar. "No, not you. I refuse to allow you to widow your woman and leave your offspring fatherless." He smiled crookedly. "Besides, you're far too pretty to waste in battle. No, you'll tend to His Majesty, that we may bring him home for burial at the royal cemetery where he should properly rest."

_Pretty?_ Christian thought incredulously, and nearly burst out laughing. Instead he gave a quick nod, then turned hastily away to hide his reaction. He caught a couple of other armored soldiers rushing to lend assistance and procured their help in lifting King Erik's body off the deck, toting it away to shelter in the captain's cabin. Just as he and his companions laid Erik on the bed, there came a deafening boom that shook the entire ship and almost knocked Christian off his feet. "What??"

"They fired the cannon," one of the other soldiers exclaimed excitedly. "Another one or two like that and those Irish demons will go to the bottom for certain!"

"And well they should, for their murder of our good king and the theft of our royal crown," the other snapped, sounding insulted.

"Off with your helmets," Christian ordered, and both soldiers obeyed him, recognizing the unconscious commanding tone in his voice. He sighed heavily when he saw them: both were quite young, probably still in their teens. "All right—remove His Majesty's robes, on the instant. They will be needed at the coronation. Then pull the blanket over His Majesty, so that no one else will see how he truly died."

The two young soldiers scrambled to obey him, and Christian took the robe and folded it with care, laying it aside. The ship rocked again with the firing of a cannon and he grabbed the bedstead to stay upright. The second youngster turned to Christian and said, "The deed is done, sir. We beg leave to go and fight for the honor of our murdered king and our country!"

"Go," said Christian wearily, and the two pounded out the door, leaving him alone with the king. He figured darkly that this might well be the last day in the lives of those two young pups as well, and shook his head. This whole venture had been fruitless; there was no hope of getting the crown back, not this far from shore. They'd come enough of a distance that land was only a thick grayish-green line along the horizon and revealed no distinguishing landmarks. Had they sailed northwest? Southwest? Due west? There was no telling. Christian had never really been a sailor and knew little, if anything, about navigating a ship. He'd come out here and watched Erik waste his life, watched Lilla Jordsö's first royal crown vanish forever, only to realize that he had little, if any, information to add to what was already known. Once again the ship rocked beneath him as a cannon expelled another ball, and he was caught off guard, stumbling against the wall.

"Oh, there you are, my love," said a welcome, familiar voice, and he yanked off his helmet and whipped around. Leslie stood there smiling at him, and he smiled readily back in relief. Her eyes widened. "Are you okay?"

"I saw more than I quite bargained for, I'm afraid," Christian admitted, crossing the cabin and peering out a window. What he saw made him exclaim in _jordiska_. "Leslie, my darling, come and see this, quickly. This somehow evaded the history books!"

Leslie drew up beside him and giggled. "Wow, they sure succeeded in avenging Erik, I'd say!" Not just one, but three members of the Irish pirate fleet were sinking rapidly enough to watch, including the vessel that had carried the pirate who'd stolen the crown.

Christian grinned with satisfaction. "Serves them right." He let the heavy brocade drape fall back over the window and turned to regard the shrouded form in the bed. "Well, whatever folly Erik perpetuated in his lifetime, one thing can be said for him—he certainly inspired loyalty. I was given to understand that my grandfather, Lukas VI, was very popular, but I have to wonder if even he could have spurred his troops on to sink three enemy ships in quick succession."

Leslie smiled and remarked, "Maybe Erik wasn't quite such a loser after all."

"Perhaps not," Christian said reflectively. He sighed gently and returned her smile. "Well, at any rate, I'm ready. Shall we?"


	6. Chapter 6

§ § § -- August 9, 2004

Christian waited beside the car, with the triplets already strapped in for the ride home, as the jeep with Roarke and Leslie pulled up beside it. The Enstads had all stayed the night at the main house, parents and babies all squeezing into Leslie's old room, and Leslie had to admit she was more than ready to go home and have a quiet day with her family.

Christian grinned at her. "What? No overwhelming desire to return to work yet?"

"Oh you," said Leslie and playfully bopped him on the arm. "Well, I won't say that, but it surprises me to realize that I'm tired."

"It shouldn't," Roarke commented, amused. "Not after you and Christian were up for two feedings last night. Do you have news, Christian?"

"Yes, I do," Christian said and chuckled. "You must have seen it on my face or something. Anyhow, we're all going to London, my Rose—you and I, the triplets, and Ingrid, as well as Jonathan Ichino. I can't resist going in and taking a hand in that renovation project, especially since I got the offer. I told Jonathan to come in today and arrange for a passport, Mr. Roarke, so you'll probably see him around lunchtime. He's going to work with the London accountant on the financial aspects of the contract, primarily payment terms which I understand are still being worked out, while I join my London staff in installing and programming hardware. I'll be working on their website as well."

"Off to London, huh?" Leslie said and grinned. "This should be fun."

Roarke smiled. "Just let me know if you two find you'll be away beyond the end of the month," he said. "Our busy season will begin immediately after the U.S. Labor Day holiday, and I'll need Leslie back on the job then."

"We'll do our best," Christian promised. "Which reminds me…I shouldn't be in such a hurry to rush home. The triplets need passports as well, don't they?"

Roarke nodded. "So they do!" He and the Enstads leaned down to gaze inside the car, laughing when all three babies began to giggle in response to their broad smiles. "Perhaps you'll be able to get them all to smile for the camera! Why don't you bring them in, and we'll begin processing the necessary paperwork for them."

Inside the main house they found Michiko waiting for them. "Oh my," she said, "an entire entourage."

They all laughed. "What brings you over here?" Leslie asked cheerfully, setting down Tobias' and Karina's infant seats.

"Oh, well, I was just wondering if you'd patched things up. Hello, Mr. Roarke, and hi, Christian," Michiko said. Roarke nodded and smiled at her.

"_Hallå då,_ Michiko," Christian replied amiably. "Patched things up?"

Leslie grinned at him and said, "I confided in Michiko on Saturday when we had our spat about your going back to visit Erik the Loser. Yes, we did, actually. Right now we're about to take pictures of the triplets so they can get passports."

Michiko blinked. "They already need passports? What for?"

"A trip overseas, of course," Leslie said, laughing. "I'm sure it's going to cost us an absolute fortune, but it should be fun anyway. Maybe this time we'll have a chance to go sightseeing beyond London."

"Oh, you're going to England!" Michiko exclaimed.

"It's really a business trip," Christian said and summarized the reason for the journey. "I called the travel agent in town and she's still trying to come up with a fare that won't make me faint when she quotes it. Seven fares to London is just not cheap, even if three of those fares are for infants."

Michiko shook her head. "When do you have to be there?"

"The work begins Wednesday," Christian said, "but my arrival time is flexible."

"Then if you can stand to wait till Wednesday to leave," Michiko said, "you can come back on the royal jet with me. Errico has a state visit to make, and I'm supposed to meet him in London and join him on that before we go back to Arcolos. It'll save you and your company a huge amount of money, and I expect Errico will offer the use of the jet for the return flight, knowing what close allies Arcolos and Lilla Jordsö are."

"But it'll cost him an even more tremendous sum," Christian protested.

Michiko smiled ruefully. "Friendship or no, I can tell you and Errico just haven't had a lot of contact over the years. He'll say something like 'hang the expense' and insist on it. The only reason we even have a royal jet is that one of the smaller rainbow-gem mines shut down temporarily for major repairs, and that sparked a minor panic on the precious-gem market. The price of rainbow gems went up more than a third in the wake of the shutdown, and suddenly the national coffers were overflowing. So Errico got it into his head that Arcolos needed a royal jet. I tried to tell him his name isn't Onassis, but he said it didn't have to be. 'All this money,' he said, 'and nowhere to spend it. Why shouldn't we share the wealth with a country that needs it and can give us something valuable in return?' It should make you happy to hear that the jet was built at Kronström & Dalby—the aircraft manufacturer near Birka in Lilla Jordsö."

Christian burst out laughing, inducing Leslie and Roarke to join in and the triplets to begin gurgling again. "Well, then, how can I refuse? We'll be glad to travel with you!"

* * *

_Next: Christian's London project turns into an adventure that yields a totally unexpected dividend!_


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